


Mishaps and Mayhem

by madame_alexandra



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Committed Relationship, F/M, Humor, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex, Sexual Humor, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-18 18:10:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16522133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madame_alexandra/pseuds/madame_alexandra
Summary: A little anthology of the kinks (pun intended) that sometimes arrive during intimacy. H/L ! (Explicit).





	1. The Finger

"The Finger"

* * *

With her forehead pressed hard against the cushions of the sofa, and her nails digging into the tough, sturdy back of it, Leia was fighting a dizzying battle between deciding if this position hurt her breasts, or if it felt good enough to override that. The tender press of Han's hand against her lower back was a direct contradiction to the roughness of his hips as he thrust into her, and she closed her eyes, muffling another moan into the pillows.

His hand curled around her hip, anchoring her to him, and he slowed his movements, bending over her to press kisses to the back of her neck, his breath coming in hard, quick gasps. She lifted her head, tilting it back a little, panting.

"Talk to me, Han," she begged, her lashes fluttering.

"Are you close?" he growled in her ear.

She nodded.

"Mm. Mmm, so close," she gasped, pursing her lips for a kiss.

He kissed her jaw instead, drawing his tongue over it to her ear and burying his nose in her ear, taking a moment to catch his breath.

"Talk to me," she begged again, softer. She shifted her hips back against him insistently and he groaned, gripping her hip hard.

"Easy, I gotta slow down," he mumbled, kissing her ear again. He took a deep breath, restraining himself, and Leia gave him no mercy, shifting her hips again, making a soft, seductive noise in the back of her throat.

"Don't stop, don't slow down," she argued. She bowed her head. "I can get there,  _mmm,"_  she teased breathlessly, "just – just listening to you – come – is enough," she murmured faintly.

" _Fuck_ ," Han swore huskily, his lips trailing over her spine. "Holy hell," he murmured, straightening up and stroking her hair. He curled his fingers into it and started to thrust hard again, keeping up a steady rhythm.

Leia moaned, digging her teeth into the sofa cushions.

"This is why they  _hate_  you, you know," she teased, her voice washing over him in a sultry downpour – she clicked her tongue – "all the people who think you're not good enough for me," she murmured.  _"Jealous_  you get to take me like this."

Han grit his teeth, tilting his head back slightly.

"Yeah, Sweetheart, I know," he said, his teeth grit. "Scandalizes 'em," he muttered, "the idea of the princess of Alderaan gettin' laid."

"Mmhm," she agreed huskily. "Offends their sensibilities, the idea of a," she gasped, the tempo of her breaths rising sharply, punctuating her words,  _"smuggler,"_  she managed faintly, "fucking me like  _he's_  in charge."

Han closed his eyes, reaching out to brace his hand against the back of the couch. He steadied her hips tightly with his other. He groaned softly, and slid his hand over to her, pulling at her shoulder. Leia pushed herself up a little, arching her back.

"They can't stand it," she gasped.

He leaned forward, kissing her ear, her neck –

"Can't stand the idea of you screamin' my name," he agreed hoarsely, kissing her shoulder, his thrusts become quicker, more purposeful – she yelped his name obligingly – "or me talkin' dirty to you," he whispered, "you beggin' me to make you come."

"God, Han, oh god," she prayed rapidly, her breath coming in short gasps, "yes, oh yes, like that,  _right_  there – "

She gripped the edge of the sofa and braced herself on it, pushing back to against him some resistance, and he gripped her hips with a grunt, his breath stuttering in a low, attractive groan. She dug her nails in, parting her lips in anticipation, that last grind of his hips against hers as he buried himself in her, swearing – and she slipped forward, losing her grip, banging her nose on the hard edge of the sofa, and –

" _Ouch_ ," she muttered hazily, which was likely not what Han was expecting to hear.

In an instant, a burst of pain from her index finger overwhelmed her senses and erased all possibility of orgasm. Distracted, and confused about what had happened, she paused, and lifted her head, surreally aware of Han, lost in the throes of his own passion, and her sudden detachment from the hot and heavy act.

She lifted her hand, and blood poured down her finger, and it looked a little bent. She blinked, startled – it appeared half the nail had been ripped off, caught in a divot and yanked off when Han thrust forward so hard.

She straightened, upending his movements, and Han gave a low grunt, grasping at her hips. He buried his face in her hair, hazily confused as to why she was trying to stand up in the middle of him finishing – instinctively, he grabbed her hip and squeezed, pushing her forward gently to avoid making a mess.

Leia propped herself up on one elbow.

"Han," she said.

He groaned appreciatively.

"You good?" he murmured, collapsing over her to kiss her neck.

"No," she said dryly.

He shifted, concerned.

"You said you were – "

"Han, will you get out of me? I'm bleeding," she said calmly. "I think my finger is sprained."

 _"What?"_  he asked, blinking, confused.

He spotted her cradling her finger, suddenly, and the blood dripping on the sofa, and straightened up, stumbling back. Leia winced and sucked in her breath, her senses heightened, and the withdrawal too rough. He muttered an apology, anxiety written on his face.

Leia straightened, too, her open robe fluttering around her thighs, wrinkled. Han was hastily hooking his trousers closed, leaving the belt hanging loose. He stepped forward, and she showed him her finger.

"Fuck," he swore, eyes going wide. "How'd that - ?"

"It got caught, and that last thrust – "

"I did this?"

"—sort of ripped the nail loose – "

"Kriff, it's bleeding a lot – "

"I think the joint might be sprained," Leia said, grimacing – it was hard to flex the finger –

" _And_  you didn't come?" Han asked, offended.

She looked up at him, and then burst out laughing.

"I was  _going_  to, if it makes you feel better," she soothed with a snort.

Han ran a hand over his jaw and leaned against the sofa, puling her hand closer. He took some of the material of her robe and wrapped it around her wrist to stem the bleeding. He blinked a few times, and then looked at her warily.

"Leia," he said slowly, noting how quickly the circulation in her finger was starting to look worrisome, and there was a blooming blueish spot near one of the crooks. "I think it's  _broken."_

She lifted her shoulders in a shrug, sighing. She arched her brows.

"Well, if it is," she said mildly, "I can't wait until Jan asks me how I broke my finger."

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh oh spaghettios

"The Shower"

* * *

It happened so fast that Leia's head spun – both the climax, and the collapse. Han had her in the shower, held tight against the wall, braced up so that he was hitting every spot just right, and the steady pound of the water spray was driving her mad with sensation – rushing water and her own moans were drowning out any other sounds, and when Han pulled her hair surprisingly hard and let loose a string of violent swearing, she just thought he was coming, too.

Until she heard the  _crack_  of something heavy smacking the floor of the 'fresher, followed by a hearty thud, and then –  _slam,_  that was her own knee, going down hard on the tile, and the breath flew out of her as her forehead banged into Han's shoulder.

She blinked, shocked, and found herself staring at the slick 'fresher floor, her mouth pressed hard against Han's chest and –

Somewhere in the stumble the curtain had come down, too, and water was splashing out onto the floor around the sani. She gasped again, as the pain in her knee radiated over her dully, diminished, thankfully, by the fading orgasm raging through her, and her head spun as she tried to grasp what had happened.

"Han!" she shrieked instinctively, water blurring her vision.

Han groaned, twisting to the side to turn his face away from the onslaught of water. He winced, dazed, unsure if he was willing to believe that had just happened – it appeared he'd found the soap he dropped earlier, right under his foot, right at a key moment when he needed leverage – and everything had happened slow motion as he went down, and tried to grab things and twist around so that Leia felt on top of him instead of the other way around.

He opened one eye to see a bottle of conditioner innocently rolling near his head. He blinked at it dizzily.

" _Han_ ," he heard Leia say again.

She smacked her palm against his cheek a little roughly.

"Hey," he growled, and turned his head. He took hold of her – the closest part of her – and squeezed, concerned. "You okay?" he asked, and then furrowed his brow. "Did you  _slap_  me?" he demanded.

"You drop me in the shower and the first thing you do is grab my ass?" she retorted, sitting back on him and removing his hand.

He grinned lazily, and tried to sit up with a groan. Leia winced, sitting back on his thighs, his knee – and then gingerly moved away, standing up to turn off the spray of water. She crouched back down, pushing hair out of her face, her eyes wide.

"Han," she said, her voice strained. "Your head's bleeding," she warned, going to her knees and inching over to him. She lifted his head and ran her fingers through his hair; he winced, flinched away, and swore, sitting up slowly. The cut was on the side of his head.

The shower spun. His head pounded. His colour paled.

"Fuck," she uttered in a worried whimper. "It  _might_  need stitches. Are you dizzy?"

"What the hell happened?" Han griped, shaking his head. He turned his head away, sheepish.

"You tell me," she said dryly, appraising him worriedly.

Part of her wanted to laugh, part of her was mortified – mostly, she was worried about the head injury. She couldn't carry him anywhere –

"Can you get up, slowly?" she asked. "I'd hate for a transport to have to take you  _naked_  to the hospital – "

"Well, put clothes on me first!"

"I can't, you're too big."

"Got that right, Sweetheart," he drawled. "I am big."

She rolled her eyes, sitting back. Her hand slipped off of him. If he was able to crack jokes like that – he was probably okay. But that cut – she began to feel behind over his head again, and he tilted his head back. He groaned – but not in pain.

"I dropped you," he grumbled. "I can't believe I – "

"You broke my fall," she soothed sympathetically.

She shivered, as the steam in the room started to dissipate, and Han reached for her shoulder, rubbing it. He grimaced, and laid back, drawing his knees up and staring up at the ceiling.

"Han, are you - ?"

"'M fine. Just wounded pride."

She crawled over him worriedly, and he smiled at her lazily, reaching up to touch her chin. He slid his hand over her shoulder and down to her hip, tapping her suggestively.

"You could, uh, hop on and finish up," he tried.

She glanced down, shaking her head, looking back up and glaring at him.

"Not an option right now," she informed him, and he groaned – though he figured it shouldn't shock him too much that a nasty tumble lost him his hard-on. "Is that all you can think about? Your brain may be leaking out – "

"The blood's just now rushing back to it, Sweetheart!" he fired back, rolling to the side and tumbling her off of him.

She shivered and swatted at him at being dumped so unceremoniously on the floor, and then rolled herself up in the shower curtain and glared at him. He started laughing, and rolled over, pushing up onto his knees. He rubbed his head.

"At least you came," he muttered moodily.

She snuggled into her shower curtain burrito primly.

"You have to admit, this is a good story," she chirped.

Han gave her an alarmed, incredulous look.

"You tell anyone about this, Leia – " he broke off, scoffing. "You wouldn't. Prude."

"I would so!" she protested, pausing dramatically. "I'm telling  _Chewie_."

Han gave her an affronted look. She inched away, and he sat back on his ankles, glaring at her – and she tried to stop herself from laughing, but she couldn't – there wasn't really a better way to end up tangled in a shower curtain.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alexandra


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: first of all, this was planned long before that anon on tumblr called me out.

"The Sneeze"

* * *

 

 

He loved how short she was. He made fun of her for it constantly but  _fuck_ , he loved it. She was easy to hold, easy to lift, easy to snuggle into in the  _Falcon's_  tiny bunks – and she had a knack for looking like the most savagely seductive woman he'd ever had the incredible fortune to come across, when she knelt up on the edge of that very bunk with her heady, charming eyes and took his hips in her elegant hands and his cock in her mouth.

It was an easy position, standing there, leaning forward until he was draped against the top of the bunk, hands gripping the metal railing at the top tightly, his forehead and nosed pressed against metal while he tried to keep his knees from buckling.  _Kest_ , she was fucking good. She was good enough to make him cry, sometimes, almost – such a slow burn technique, teasing, coquettish, always like she was pretending she was a princess who had  _no_  idea what she was doing –

Although, tonight, she was being a little – her teasing was a little –

"Leia," he mumbled hazily, his teeth grit. He shifted his nose against the metal, his breathing labored. "Somethin' wrong?"

She mumbled something, and he tried not to laugh.

"You shouldn't talk with your mouth full," he joked huskily.

She eased back.

"No," she answered softly.

"You keep stoppin'," he muttered.

She ran her hand over his thigh, her lips moving over him again, ignoring his comment. He felt her shrug a little, returning to her ministrations, and after a moment, she pulled back again.

"Well, I can stop, if you'd like," she threatened.

"Not complainin'," Han said quickly. "S'just if you're not into it tonight, don't – "

"Oh, get over yourself," she purred flippantly, leaning forward to kiss his hip. "I love it."

She ran a finger along the underside of him, and then went back to her task. Han closed his eyes tightly, rolling his forehead hard against the bunk, and tightened the muscles in his thighs.

" _Fuck_ ," he mumbled huskily.

She paused again, and turned her head to the side. He lifted his head, peering down. Her nose twitched.

" _Leia_ ," he said again.

"I keep thinking I have to sneeze," she hissed, blushing.

Restless, Han reached down to touch himself, and Leia knocked his hand away, offended.

"Give me a minute," she requested.

He whined.

"Baby," she accused. "Quit whining."

He grinned at her wolfishly.

"Don't tell me you're allergic to me," he drawled.

She shook her head, catching his eye this time as she turned back to him. He slid a hand up to her neck and into her hair, leaning forward gently into her, his eyes sliding closed hazily. He murmured her name, lashes fluttering, and forcing himself to watch her.

He tightened his hand in her hair, nodding his head.

"Mmm," he moaned under his breath. "Leia.  _Leia_."

She jerked her head back suddenly, too quickly for him to realize she needed him to let go of her hair, so really it was partially his fault that she was – not clear of the danger area when she was overcome by the sneeze she'd been fighting for the past ten minutes.

She didn't get him as bad as she could have, but it was a far cry from the ending he was aiming for. Teeth –  _teeth_ , in any capacity other than a light, teasing graze – were never a pleasant addition to a blowjob.

Han was fairly sure he'd never made such a high-pitched, girlish noise in his life. He stumbled back, hunched at the waist, black spots bursting in his eyes, and feeling the rolling nausea that always came with a sharp injury to the groin spreading through his veins. He stopped short of actually vomiting, but when he regained his senses, he was sitting on the floor, and Leia was peering down at him, a mortified look on her face.

" _Oh_ , my god," she was hissing, panic written on her face. "Oh my – Han?"

He let out a stream of expletives, and then panted –

"How'd I get on the floor?"

"You fell," Leia said faintly. "I think you blacked out."

Han tilted his head up, his eyes squeezed shut. He swallowed hard, the  _biting_  – appropriate way to describe it – pain still radiating through him. He shook his head roughly.

"What's the damage?" he asked. "'M afraid to look."

"It's not hurt," Leia assured him.

"It's fuckin'  _hurt_ , Sweetheart - !" he howled, indignant.

"Umm, uh," she stammered, her hands moving over his chest soothingly. "It's still the same size?"

_That_  made him laugh – oh, good, so she hadn't  _bitten any of it off._ The laugh was hoarse, and a little wheezy, though, and he turned to the side, hunching over. He groaned dramatically. He panted, trying to catch his breath, and then shook his head.

"That's a first, Your Worship," he said. "That's a first."

"I'm honored," she said in a small voice, her face flushed pink.

She crawled over him – so short and tiny, light as a feather, and pawing at him with concern, her lips pursed in contrite horror.

"I told you I thought I had to sneeze – "

"You  _always_  slam your teeth together like a rancor's cage door when you sneeze?" he drawled dramatically.

"I'm so sorry, Han," she pleaded, and when he tilted is head up, there were tears in the corners of her eyes.

He blinked, shaking his head.

"S'okay, Sweetheart," he mumbled. "Damn, don't cry," he soothed. He arched a brow. "What're you cryin' about? I didn't take a bite out of  _your_  – "

Leia slid her hand over his mouth, and then her lips, in a gentle, soothing kiss.

"I'll kiss it better," she promised, tilting her head.

He caught her in his arm and pulled her closer, arching an eyebrow warily.

"Don't take it too hard, Leia," he said dryly, "but you just keep your lips," he pointed to his, "up here for the rest of the night, eh?"

She nodded, her expression contrite, and beautiful. She leaned forward to give him another kiss, paused, turned her head to the side, and sneezed again, startling them both.

She gave him a helpless look, and he tilted his head back with a laugh of disbelief – if anything, this was an incident that would keep him keen on periodically dusting the  _Falcon_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> space cosmo sex tip: SNEEZE-BITE YOUR MAN'S DICK SO HE KNOWS WHO IS IN CHARGE
> 
> -alexandra


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOPS

"The Small Bunk"

* * *

It was bound to happen, Leia just didn't expect it to happen in such a spectacular succession of comedic errors. Han did repeatedly insist his bunk on the  _Falcon_  was not a prime place for extended periods of sexual activity – and he really didn't usually bring women back to the  _ship_ , anyway, but that was neither here, nor there, now –

But she'd posed the question to him – what were they supposed to do, limp the broken ship into densely populated space, just park it  _casually_  over on some core planet, and waltz into a luxury hotel so they could fuck?

That was, of course, impossible, and Han was not so self-sacrificing, and so wary of small space, that he'd vow himself to celibacy until they reached Bespin –

And really, there were no issues at first, because  _at first_ , he was gentle with her, and she with him, and in general, they were soft and careful and learning each other _._  That went out the window  _quickly,_  and the whole damn place became a playground, though they always ended up right back tucked away in his bunk behind a locked door –

"Sweetheart," Han mumbled, running his hands up over her waist, and her back, reverently, his lips moving against her shoulder as he moved his hips underneath hers. He breathed in her scent, drank in the warmth of her on top of him, and –

"Leia?" he said sharply, suddenly noticing there was very little movement from her.  _"Leia,"_  he shook her, more sharply than he meant to – was she… _conscious_  - ?

She made a gasping noise and jolted, lifting her head a little hazily.

"Umm," she murmured, not unpleased. "I'm, um – sorry," she mumbled, flushing.

He drew back, baffled.

"Were you –  _asleep?"_

She blushed deeper.

"Well, I've – we've – not been –  _getting_  much sleep!" she protested weakly, mortified.

Han lingered somewhere between outraged, and concerned, his hand resting on her hip.

"Uhh," he started. "Do you want to stop…?"

"No," she murmured urgently, running her hands over his shoulders neatly. "No,  _mm,_  no, this feels nice, keep going," she encouraged, her eyes heavy and hazy and attractive. "It's soothing – "

" _It's putting you to sleep!"_  he nearly howled.

"Not in a bad way," she teased gently.

He pushed himself up on his elbows a little, hand sliding off of her.

"Your  _Worship_ ," he growled. "You want me to keep goin', you're gonna have to rally," he informed her with a grimace – it would be, he decided, incredibly difficult for him to go on with any sort of - the appropriate mechanics if he felt she was bored –

"Oh," she breathed softly. "I will, let me shake it off," she whispered fetchingly.

She yawned pointedly, smirked at him, and then went to sit up straight and toss her head back dramatically and shake her hair – which, even given her short stature, was not necessarily the best course of action considering the overhead of the bunk was so low.

She smacked the back of her head directly into the top of it, and gave a wide-awake, startled yelp. She reached up to grab her head, and Han jolted forward, eyes wide. He grabbed for her hip, but she was already scrambling off of him, swearing – and it was as if in slow motion that her knee jammed too close to his groin for comfort – barely missed him,  _thank the Gods --_ as she lost her balance and fell directly onto the floor.

She made a small, startled  _oof_  noise and pressed her palm to her forehead, groaning. Han tossed onto his side, dragging the blankets up around his waist, and bent over the edge, looking at her earnestly.

"Leia," he said in a pained voice, his jaw trembling.

He hunkered down, hiding his face, trying to force out his next words steadily –

"Are you okay?"

He sounded so strained, she thought he might be near tears, and she sat up gingerly, scowling, but nodding.

" _Yes_ , I'm – "

Before she could even finish, he started laughing so hard, and so  _loud,_  she could barely hear herself think. Tears? No, he hadn't been near tears, he'd been trying to do the right thing and make sure she wasn't injured before he lost it – and he really  _lost_  it.

Blinking, outraged, she watched him roll on the bunk and nearly choke on his own tongue laughing. She rose up on her knees and swatted at him, grabbing his wrist and biting, and he curled his hand around her jaw and turned to face her, grinning manically.

"Leia," he gasped, still snorting. "That was very undignified,  _Princess_."

Baring her teeth at him, she elbowed him gently in the ribs, her lips curving into a pout.

"You should have just let me  _sleep_ ," she grumbled.

Han yanked all the covers to him, pulling them untucked from the corners, and gingerly let himself crawl out of bed onto the floor with her, tossing the quilts over them both. Smugly, he leaned closer, pulling her tight against his chest, and as he did, he drawled, low and sultry:

"More room down here, anyway."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -alexandra


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: i truly think this is my crowning glory. i am a serious authoress, okay?

"The Dejarik Table"

* * *

If she had to chose – not that she would want to, but if she absolutely, no other alternative,  _had_  to choose someone to walk in on them in such a – truly scandalous, salacious position – she  _suppose_  she'd choose Chewie.

That was  _not_  to say she was interested in performing for Chewbacca. It was just –  _if she had to choose_  – he was the least offensive option, the one who would fairly easily let her dust off the embarrassment and, ah – well, just looking back on it now, if it had to be someone –

She was glad it was  _Chewie_.

She just couldn't imagine ever existing in the world again with any shred of dignity if it had been Luke, or – or Carlist – or one of the Rogues –  _anyone_  but Chewie – that walked in on Han having her for dinner on the Dejarik table.

And no, that wasn't a metaphor. Or – was it? Technically, it was slang – regardless, it wasn't  _her_  bright idea to splay herself out like that, and if she was generous, she had to concede it wasn't Han's idea either – it had just sort of happened.

They'd been playing Dejarik, which in itself was odd. She could count on one hand the times she and Han had actually played Dejarik with each other – and they'd been drinking, and then, she'd sidled onto his lap for a little hot-and-heavy kissing, and he'd boosted her up on the table to give them a little more space, and one thing led to another and –

She ended up with blood rushing to her head, her hair loosened braids dangling off the edge, one leg draped over Han's shoulder, one foot braced against his other, her skirt hiked up around her hips, and panties – well, she had no idea what he'd done with them.

She was too distracted by Han's tongue to have ideas about anything. And because of the position, she was a little light-headed, and that was an unexpected additional thrill – and Han's grip on her thighs was so incredible, his angle perfect as he sat leaning forward with his head between her legs –

She was on the edge when she saw the flash of dark tawny fur, and for a split, hazy second, she considered ignoring it, and not depriving herself of what was promising to be a real hell of an orgasm – but instead of backing out quickly, or hustling away, Chewbacca – he –

_Nodded_  to her, and turned to  _work_  on one of the panels, and snuffled something smugly to Han about making sure he wiped the table.

Leia, jolted from her shock, gave a shriek, and went scrambling. Han sat back, eyes wide, startled by her sharp movements, and she heard him utter a hoarse roar at Chewbacca that was – unfortunately – cut short but her foot hitting him directly in the nose and mouth as she tried to swing her leg off his shoulder and dive into the booth to save some face.

He grunted and then swore thickly, ducking his head, and Leia scrambled to push her skirt down and try to tuck her hair back, her face burning.

_[…to disturb you or interrupt, I only need to fix this toggle for a moment - ]_ Chewbacca was saying.

Leia hid, hunkering down in the booth with a wince.

"Um, Chewie," she squeaked finally. "Humans don't – this is very  _humiliating_ , can you please come back later?" she asked faintly.

_[I sincerely apologize, I forget you are such prudes about your – ]_

"GO SIT IN THE COCKPIT YOU BIG FURRY OAF!" Han howled.

Chewbacca snipped at him, growling moodily, and rolled his eyes, striding out. On his way towards the cockpit, he threw her a halfway comforting comment –

_[It is not humiliating, Princess, it is just pleasure.]_

Leia hissed under her breath, shaking her head –  _last_  Princess of Alderaan, and here she was, hiding in a game booth on her paramour's filthy ship, getting a sex lecture from a Wookiee.

When he was gone, she peeked around her, and found Han doubled over, his head down on the table, breathing hard. He groaned dramatically, and she sat up, pushing her hair back again.

"Han – what the  _fuck_  - !" she broke off, going from tentative, to aghast, as he lifted his head.

The lower half of his face, from nostrils to chin, was covered in bright red blood. He pinched his nose, grimacing, and she reared back, alarmed.

"What - !" she started again.

"You kicked me in the face," he said thickly, tilting his head all the way back. "And, uh," his voice sounded funny, "somehow kneed me in the ribs, knocked the breath," he took a deep one, "out of me."

Abashed, Leia stared at him, frozen. Then she knelt up next to him, and gently took over pinching his nose. She held her wrist to his nostrils, her lips turning down in a sympathetic frown. She clicked her tongue, stroking his hair.

"I'm sorry – Chewie walked in – "

"I heard," Han said grimly. "I saw – you have to lose your damn mind like that?" he whined. "S'not the first time he's walked in on us. You coulda just pretended we were doin' something else."

" _Like what_?" Leia retorted, indignant. "What  _else_  could we be doing when you've got your head between my legs on the Dejarik table?"

"Dunno," Han said. "Scavenger hunt?"

He laughed at himself, and Leia elbowed him gently, glaring coldly.

"Oh, is that what was taking you so long? Couldn't find my clit?"

"Hey!" Han protested, struggling against her hand. "I know where it – let me – I'll show you – "

He lunged forward and got blood smears on her, and she shoved him back – still gently, shaking her head with a grin. She kissed his brow and pinched his nose, sighing.

"Han, just sit still," she soothed.

He grumbled, eyeing her moodily. He turned his head a little, looking down the hall.

"Dumb Wookiee," he growled.

"None of that, now," Leia admonished. "He's a sweetheart."

Han scowled at her. Leia blushed, and ran her fingers through his hair again.

"You should…definitely clean the table," she said agreeably.

"Would've been messier if he'd let me finish you off."

"Han," she hissed, blushing darker. She bit her lip, rolling her eyes, and eased off his nose, checking the damage. She wiped some of the blood with her sleeve, and started to slide back. "Let me get a kit," she said.

She was off the booth, and neatly brushing herself off, when something he'd said struck her, and she looked up sharply, alarm bursting through her eyes –

"What do you mean it's  _not the first time he's walked in on us?!"_

* * *

_The End_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -alexandra

**Author's Note:**

> -alexandra


End file.
